A "Poetry Slam"

I had never been to a "poetry slam" before tonight and though I'm no authority on the genre, I don't think I have been to one yet.  They should have called it a "spoken word slam" or whatever the fuck.  I'm not a poetry purist or anything like that.  I don't know shit about poetry or spoken word, but all these people were just talking and not rhyming.  They were yelling for the most part.


I was hoping for a pleasant night of clever rhymes, fast raps, and insightful poems that used all types of poetic devices or style or whatever it's called--meter, cadence, music, verse, mood, whatever, etc.  I, myself, spent a lot of fucking time composing an epic poem to contribute, but I did not get a chance so now I will use this blog as my stage!


I just want to say, though, that the night wasn't too bad--some annoying shit here and there, mostly annoying yelling/talking spoken word, some ok shit, very little good shit.  Most of them just spewed the usual trying-too-hard-to-be-offensive-yet-say-something-important-and-meaningful-to-get-away-with-it dribble.


I feel like people are too often pressured into marriage either by outside parties, or by the other person, or by oneself.  It must be fucking hell to be married to someone you don't really like.  So, I wrote a stupid poem about that.  I apologize for it sucking and being boring and shit.


For All My Lies by Me

Well, I’ll be fucked

All gone awry

Here I am stuck

For all my lies

Married hither

And no love found

Fuck, I kissed her

Now by ring bound

To promises

Traditional

And all the sex

Positional

In out, in out

For pleasure bound

You scream out loud

In pleasure town

Her asshole stink

When you are done

Her mouth too stinks

But it was fun

Penis thought then

And brain right now

Vagina then

And headache now

Kids do appear

And yell they do

‘Till you can’t hear

Oh what to do?

Not what you thought

This life would be

So hard you fought

To beaten be

Oh well, oh well

We run and run

Nowhere to tell

Hope rest will come

I'm the next T.S. Eliot damn it!

I'm the next James Joyce damn it!

I'm the next Ezra Pound damn it!